


chosen

by deanwstories



Series: Chosen [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angels, BAMF Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester Has Powers, Demon possession, Demons, Episode: s01e01 Pilot, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Michael Possessing Dean Winchester, Michael/Dean - Freeform, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Michael, Protective Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:20:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28371522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deanwstories/pseuds/deanwstories
Summary: Canon divergent. Sam isn’t the only chosen one…
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Jessica Moore & Sam Winchester, Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester, Michael & Dean Winchester, Michael/Dean Winchester
Series: Chosen [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1897504
Comments: 40
Kudos: 67





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I hadn't originally planned to write a coherent series when I started to write the first one-shot, but surprise, here we are. And here we go, Sam and Dean...

Sam Winchester had been away from the ‘family business’ for years now. Almost four years to be exact. So the night Dean, his estranged older brother, came knocking at his apartment, just hours after Jess left to sleep in their bedroom, to say that Sam was surprised was an understatement. Staring at his brother, the one whose number he dumped in the trash that one time he had been in a drunken stupor, had Sam thinking that maybe he was hallucinating. He took a step back, rubbing his eyes just in case. But nope, his brother was in fact still there. He hadn’t made a single movement, even drenched to the bone from the unrelenting rain.

Dean Winchester stood in front of him, taking in his shock with a grin, “Heya, Sammy.” His hands were deep in the pockets of their dad’s old leather jacket that he passed down to the eldest Winchester brother. He wore jeans that probably saw better days and dark work-boots. “You just gonna stand there or are you going to at least invite your older brother in? ‘Cos I don’t know ‘bout you, but I’m getting awfully sick of standing in the rain.”

Sam had no idea how to respond. He was still trying to process that Dean was even here. Wordlessly, he took another step back so that Dean had room to step in. Once they were both comfortably inside, Sam slammed the door closed and watched Dean look around the dimly lit room, taking in the modern furniture Jess picked out for them last year. He let out a low whistle of appreciation. “This your place, huh?” he asked after a moment, breaking the lingering silence. He turned to give Sam another once over, the grin never leaving his face.

“Uh, yeah,” Sam mumbled. He scratched the back of his neck nervously. “What are you even doing here, Dean? And how do you know where I live?”

Dean’s grin fell for a moment at the accusatory tone in his voice, but then it was back in place, as he walked over to the couch and said, “Uh, well, it’s a bit of a long story. Mind if I sit here?” He didn’t wait for Sam to respond though as he plopped his ass on the cushion, and leaned back. 

“No, go right ahead. Make yourself at home,” Sam said sarcastically. He went to the kitchen to grab them both some beer. Knowing his brother, whatever he was about to tell him was probably going to be something he wasn’t going to like. Even approaching midnight, Sam really couldn’t fathom going to bed. Not now.

“Thanks, Sammy,” Dean said once he returned and handed his brother a beer.

“It’s Sam,” he said, falling back on old times as he sat next to Dean and took a quick sip of his beer.

Dean smirked but didn’t comment on his correction. He drank half the bottle as Sam glanced over at him. Up this close, even drenched from the rain, Dean hadn’t changed much. He still had that air of danger about him that came from taking part in the hunting lifestyle. Their father, John Winchester, had that same sense of danger, of being almost unapproachable and intimidating to normal people. If Sam had seen Dean walking down the street and didn’t know him, he would have steered clear of his brother. But he did know him and deep down he knew part of Dean’s charm and dangerous aura was a facade.

It was surprising to Sam that even years apart, they could still return to this comfortable, easy silence. Sam remembered all those nights cooped up in motel rooms with just his brother for company as their father went out on hunts. It never really occurred to him until now that being alone with Dean had never once made him feel lonely or scared. Sitting so close to his brother again brought back that sense of being protected, like nothing could ever hurt him so long as he was with Dean.

“So, uh, guess I should probably tell you why I’m here,” Dean said finally, startling Sam out of his thoughts.

Sam took another sip from his beer, “Yeah. Yeah, that’d be good.”

“Look, there’s really no easy way to say this so I’m just gonna say it.” Sam raised an eyebrow as he watched his brother fiddle with the zipper of his jacket. Dean was rarely nervous so this obviously couldn’t be anything good. He set the beer bottle down on the table in front of them, waiting to hear what his brother had to say. Dean sighed and drained the rest of his beer. He set his own bottle on the floor under the table and turned to look seriously at Sam. “Sammy, you and your girlfriend, Jess...you guys are in danger.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year, everyone! Thank you for all of the kudos and comments on this story so far and the rest of the stories in the series. It's good to know I'm not the only one who likes this idea. While some of this will be told from Sam's perspective, this is very much a series about not just the Winchesters but more specifically about Dean, and his connection with Michael. Some things will be staying the same while others are different as you can see from this chapter. Also please note that I am a Dean fan/writer, but that does not mean I will be bashing other characters. I love Sam Winchester as well, and if you think that he's out of character or is treated unfairly, I am very sorry and you can point it out if you want. Thank you for taking the time to read though! Any and all comments are welcomed and deeply appreciated!

Sam sometimes imagined running into his older brother, at a grocery store, out on a jog in the park, at the gym, even at the local library where he liked to study because of the peace and quiet. He imagined his brother, older and a little worn around the edges, sporting a grin and those bright green eyes and he’d catch Sam at whatever he was doing and say, “Hi, Sammy.” Sometimes in his imagination, Dean would pull him into a tight hug and he’d smell like leather and alcohol and a little bit of home and he’d whisper, “I missed you, baby brother.” Every scenario, though, wherever Dean would meet Sam again, it always ended with Dean asking Sam to go back to hunting with him again. It was something a small part of Sam dreaded, if he was being honest.

Hunting had been a life that the Winchester brothers grew up in. Maybe not quite as young as they could have been. Thankfully Sam had a nice enough childhood, but John Winchester took up hunting when their mom died and that was when Sam was thirteen. For five whole years, Sam’s life was full of fear and rage and moving from town to town. It wasn’t until he was almost eighteen that he figured he could get away from the life completely. He applied for Stanford and got a full ride and he knew he had to leave his monster hunting obsessed father and brother behind. _A fresh start_ , he had thought to himself, as he packed a small suitcase. 

Never in a million years did he consider Dean Winchester would appear back into his life with the words, “ _You’re in danger, Sammy._ ”

He looked back at his older brother, taking in the earnestness on his face. Dean was sitting on his couch, muddy and wet, and absolutely serious. Suddenly Dean stood up and said, “You should pack a bag, Sam. You and Jess. Skip out of town for the night.”

“Whoa, whoa, wait a second,” Sam said, trying to let his brain catch up with the words Dean was saying. He stood up as Dean began to pace the room, looking stressed and agitated. “Dean, wait. Stop for a minute,” he snapped. He immediately felt a pang of guilt when Dean stopped and just looked at him. It wasn’t his fault though. Dean couldn’t just barge into his apartment and drop a bombshell like that, with no explanation whatsoever. He breathed out a sigh and dropped back on the couch, “How exactly are we in danger?” He caught his brother’s eyes and felt his stomach drop at the realization that the only reason Dean would even be here right now if he was on a hunt. “You’re on a hunt, aren’t you?” he asked, dropping his voice when he realized he had been talking loud enough for Jess to wake up. He really didn’t need Jess to come over here when Dean was here. How the hell was he going to explain to Jess that Dean was actually his brother? The one she had no idea he even had. He felt another pang of guilt for not mentioning Dean to Jess all these years. She had no clue about his family, what they did. He steered clear of talk of family. The only thing she knew about Sam’s past was that he needed a clean start and maybe someday, he could introduce her to them. It had been an empty promise however. He had no intentions of letting her meet John or Dean. Until now. If Dean was on a hunt, he might not have a choice.

He stared down at his hand, clenching his fingers. His life was going to be ruined even before it truly began. 

“I’m sort of on a hunt,” Dean finally answered. Sam looked up, wondering what he meant by that. “It’s really hard to explain.”

“You’re here now, Dean. You might as well try,” Sam said. He didn’t mean to sound irritated but the pained look Dean sent him told him he didn’t succeed. He couldn’t help it though. Even if this wasn’t Dean’s intentions, just coming here was already upheaving Sam’s new life.

Dean watched him and Sam suddenly felt like he was a bug under a microscope. Sam swallowed the lump in his throat as Dean sat down on a nearby chair. He sighed, looking world weary, drained. It wasn’t exactly a good look on a twenty-six year old. Sam frowned, wondering what happened in the four years he had been gone. He knew hunting could take a lot out on a person but Dean always struck Sam as someone who enjoyed it. He took after their father after all. As soon as John Winchester found out monsters were real, he just stopped being a father and took on the hunter mantle like he was born to it. He saw the way Dean came back from a successful hunt, the way his eyes lit up with genuine excitement while Sam would just roll his eyes and go back to studying.

“You’re right, Sam. I do owe you an explanation,” Dean said. He paused and Sam waited. He sighed and rubbed his forehead, like he was trying to soothe a headache. Sam frowned. For a long moment, they sat in complete silence. Finally Dean said, “Sorry. I...just...I’m not sure you’d believe me if I told you.”

Sam grimaced. “Try me,” he said. There wasn’t much he wouldn’t believe, considering they both witnessed a lot of unexplainable things growing up.

Dean took in a deep breath, then released it. He looked Sam right in the eyes and said, “Okay. Well, I get these dreams, sometimes. Like visions.”

Sam froze. “What?”

Dean sighed, not surprised by Sam’s reaction, “See, Sammy? I told you-”

“No, no, Dean, I’m sorry. I believe you,” Sam blurted out before he could stop himself. He watched as Dean stared back at him. Sam found himself sitting up straighter. “These visions...they don’t start out with headaches, do they?” Sam had to ask, just to be sure.

Dean nodded slowly, “Uh, yeah, kind of. Sometimes.”

“And, and the stuff that happens in these dreams, or visions, they happen in real life days later, don’t they? Stuff you can’t possibly know would happen, or explain,” Sam continued, eager now as he watched Dean lean forward, his eyebrows furrowed as he took in what Sam was saying.

“Uh, yeah,” Dean said.

Sam nodded. “I believe you, Dean,” he said again, “because I get visions too. I’ve been getting them for the past couple weeks now.”


	3. Chapter 3

“You believe me because you get them too?” Dean asked slowly. 

Sam could see his brother was trying to wrap his mind around what he just told him. Sam nodded, suddenly feeling a little insecure. He had never told anyone about his...ability before. None of his professors or friends knew. Not even Jess. She thought they were nightmares. And until a week ago, when he heard Brett get into a car accident on the way over, he thought they had been nightmares as well. He sighed, running his fingers through his hair. He wasn’t sure what to make of his brother’s expression. After years apart, he realized his ability to decipher what Dean was feeling had all but gone away. Dean’s face was carefully blank as he studied his brother, trying to figure out if he was lying to make him feel better or if he was really telling the truth.

Finally Dean nodded and said, “Okay, brother. I believe you.”

The tension that Sam didn’t know was inside him seemed to release at those words. Dean believed him and he believed Dean. Now that it was out in the open, Sam felt like a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He sighed and stretched out on the couch, feeling slightly anxious about their next step.

“So I guess we should exchange what we both saw,” Dean said when Sam remained quiet. “I’ll go first. I had this, uh, dream a week ago. Um, it involved you. And Jess. Burning on the ceiling. There was smoke everywhere, man, and fire, obviously, and uh, yeah.” He looked at Sam tiredly. Dean’s face was pale and for the first time since he stepped in, Sam could see how truly exhausted Dean really was. Like he hadn’t slept in days, just running on coffee, and adrenaline. He looked like he was going to fall over at any moment, but what was keeping himself up was the sheer determination to reach his little brother to warn him of his impending doom. 

But...Sam already knew about Jess and the fire and the ceiling. Just as he thought, he had been getting the same dream for days now. He asked anyway, “Um, could you elaborate more, Dean?” Dean raised an eyebrow, silently asking what he meant. “Like, uh, were we both, you know, on the ceiling or?” He had to swallow the lump in his throat, because if Dean saw the same exact thing Sam had…

“Oh, uh,” Dean shifted in his seat, looking down at the floor. “No. It was just Jess. You were, um, looking up at her, Sam. You were sitting on your bed, and uh, just watching. I think you might have been in shock or something. It doesn’t matter though, okay? The point is something’s coming for you guys. You’re in danger. Both of you. You guys have to leave now.” He stood up and looked around the room. Sam watched as his brother walked around the room, looking under chairs and tables. He wasn’t sure what Dean was looking for but finally he stopped and looked back at Sam.

“Where do you keep your suitcase? Come on, man. You gotta pack up the essentials. I’ve got the Impala in the parking lot. Probably taking up a dude’s spot but hey, I figure we’re not going to be here too long. We can head over to the motel room I’ve booked for the night and in the morning I can drive us to Sioux Falls to meet with Bobby,” Dean rambled.

Sam didn’t move, however, and Dean looked back at him impatiently, “Dude, come on. Move your ass.”

Dean made it sound so damn simple. He was reminded of when they were teenagers and John would give them a look, the kind that Sam came to expect after being in a town for a week, sometimes two, the kind that always accompanied the dreaded words, “Pack your bags, boys. We’ve gotta hit the road before noon. No arguments.” 

He swallowed, realizing deep down that this was different. Dad didn’t care that he’d made friends and finally settled into the school, getting used to the small classroom of a random high school. It was different because Dean cared. He always cared. And he was here because Sam and Jess were in danger, uprooting Sam’s life was a small price to pay to keep them alive. 

But it still didn’t feel right, especially considering Dean probably didn’t get the whole vision, not like Sam did. Because if he knew what Sam knew...well, they might be having a whole different conversation. Before he knew what he was doing, he was already standing up from the couch. “Come on, Sammy, why don’t you wake up your girlfriend, pack some clothes, then we can go?”

Sam opened his mouth to protest but before he could, he heard the door to his room swing open. 

“Sam?”

They both turned to see Jess standing in the hallway, wearing the blue short crop top that Sam got her for Christmas their first year, the one that had one of the Smurfs on it, over a pair of sweatpants. Jess mentioned she liked the cartoon series a couple times. It seemed like a good gift at the time. Usually he thought the shirt was cute on her but in front of his womanizing brother…

He glanced over to find Dean staring. But he only said, “Hey, uh, nice shirt. Love the Smurfs.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so late! I'm in the middle of writing the next part and another Michael/Dean fanfic. :) Thank you guys so much for all the comments and kudos!! I'm so glad a lot of people are enjoying this series!

Jess walked into the room with her arms crossed. Her hair was slightly tousled, her face tired, her shoulders hunched, but her eyes, blue and bright and intelligent, darted from Sam to Dean and back again. Never in his life had he imagined Jess, the girl he was nearly positive he was going to be marrying one day, and Dean, his estranged older brother, would be standing in the same room, meeting for the first time at past midnight when Sam should have been asleep sharing the same bed with said girl. It was like witnessing a car crash. Sam couldn’t seem to look away as Jess and Dean watched each other, one cautious, the other curious. His two worlds were colliding and there was nothing he could do about it.

“Hey, Jess,” Sam said finally, having found his voice again. 

He almost immediately regretted it as Jess turned her attention back to him. She looked tired and guarded, trying to figure out why there was a strange man in the middle of their shared living room in the middle of the night, dressed in old, dirty clothes and obviously wet from the rain outside. Sam could see the question in her eyes, “Who the hell is he?” He was about to reply but Dean beat him to the punch. He coughed lightly into his fist, drawing both of their attentions back on him.

“Hey, Jess, my name’s Dean. Dean Winchester,” his brother said, looking at Jess with bright green eyes. “Sammy’s older, more charming brother.” He grinned widely at her, stretching out his hand for her to shake.

Jess looked shocked at hearing that Sam had a brother. He winced when she blurted out, “I didn’t even know Sam had a brother.” She glanced down at his hand before tentatively taking it. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to offend you. Sam and I...we’ve been together for a couple years now and he doesn’t really, uh, talk about his family.”

Sam rubbed the back of his neck, feeling his face heat up the longer he was in this room having to watch and hear the conversation he had been dreading for years. He hated how Dean was trying to hide the hurt he felt. It showed on his face for a brief moment before being smoothed over with an easy smirk and a playful twinkle in his eyes. “No offence taken. It’s no big deal. We...had a falling out of sorts before this guy decided he wanted to get himself a _proper_ education,” Dean said. 

The light jab at the end was like a punch to the gut. He and _Dean_ hadn’t had a falling out. 

It was he and _dad_. 

He remembered that night vividly. Dad said something stupid like he normally did and Sam had been at the end of his rope. 

John Winchester had burst into the motel room in the midst of Sam packing up. He had seen the stash of clothes and an envelope filled with some money Sam had managed to squirrel away from his summer jobs. He’d been planning it for years, pocketing whatever he could for the day he knew he’d leave his only family behind. A part of him had felt that little thrill go up his spine at the thought of finally getting away from all the crappiness his life had become since his mom’s death.

Dad had taken one look from the envelope to the letter that was neatly folded on the bed, then to the half packed little suitcase and finally he met Sam’s eyes, a thunderstorm brewing in his hazel eyes. 

“ _What the fuck is all this_?” Dad had demanded. Not “Hey, Sammy”, “How are you doing, son?”, “You got accepted to that school yet?” None of that. Not even feigned interest in what Sam had planned for the future. It was never about Sam. It was never about anybody else, but himself. It was never about anything except his obsession of the supernatural. Or maybe a beer. John Winchester was a selfish man who had a vendetta that ran deeper than his love for his kids. And that one look that he had sent to Sam that night, the one that he got after a few too many and he was raring for a fight, well, let’s just say that Sam had days worth of pent up frustration building inside him. 

He remembered standing there and staring his dad in the eyes, “What the _fuck_ do you think it is?”

John’s eyes narrowed and his face became red in anger, “What the fuck did you say, _Sammy_? Is that how you talk to your father?” He had stormed over to the bed and knocked the suitcase off. Startled by his father’s action, Sam remembered stumbling backwards. John then snatched the letter and nearly ripped it in half as he tried to open it. He skimmed over the paper and proceeded to crumple it. “You’re not going.”

“ _You’re not going_.” 

Those three words hit Sam like a pile of bricks. He’d gotten mad, stomped right up to dad and spat in his face, “Says who? _You_? I am going. I’ve been planning to go since I was sixteen. And you can’t fucking stop me!” Then he pushed John Winchester and sent him stumbling back. He remembered feeling the ridiculous giddiness of standing up for himself. _Just this once_ , he thought, _I can have something of my own._

Something that wasn’t hunting and living in fear and remembering the past and longing for mom to come back from the dead to make everything better. Sam Winchester could finally be his own person.

Then...there was Dean. His older brother who took to caring for Sam like a fish to water, taking up all the things Mary Winchester liked to do. And Sam thought, as he watched his dad’s face burn with rage and Dean come between them as ever the peacekeeper, pleading for them to not fight, not tonight, he thought that maybe Dean could finally become his own person too.

“Sam. Earth to Sammy,” Dean’s voice snapped Sam out of his memories and back into the present. Jess and Dean were looking at him with some concern, although once Dean realized he was back with them, he started to smile. “There you are. As I was telling your dear girlfriend over here, we need to pack up. Right the fuck now.”

“What?” Sam hardly had time to think before Dean was shoving him toward the hallway. 

Jess quickly walked over to him to put a hand on his shoulder, looking worried, “Sam, what the hell is going on? Is there someone after you?”

“Something. _Something_ is after you guys,” Dean corrected, as he marched past them and into the room he assumed was their shared bedroom. He stuck his head back out, “Come on, you two.”

“Dean, wait a second,” Sam called out after his brother, but Dean had already gone in and was probably stuffing clothes into a duffel bag. Before he had time to do anything else, the lights flickered, and the room grew cold. Sam froze.

He could smell something horrible and foul. _Like sulfur,_ his mind absurdly supplied. He slowly turned to the side where Jess was, fear seizing his body. “Jess?” he said softly.


	5. Chapter 5

Jess had stopped moving and stood a foot away behind Sam in the hallway, her face had gone pale and her eyes were closed. A part of Sam wanted to run over and check on her, but another part couldn’t bring himself to move. He was scared, he realized. Irrationally scared of his girlfriend. “Jess?” he tried again, reaching over to her.

Before he could touch her, he felt a strong hand grip his shoulder and spin him around to face his brother. Dean was glowering past him, at Jess, which was a bit ridiculous considering she didn’t do anything to deserve his scorn. “Don’t touch her. That’s not Jess,” Dean hissed, pulling Sam stumbling over to him. 

He could feel Dean’s fingers tighten around shoulder and winced when it became painful. Dean seemed to notice his discomfort right away, loosening his grip a fraction with a mumbled, “Sorry. Just stay behind me.”

Sam’s bewilderment clashed with his growing irritability over Dean’s seeming inability to tell him why he couldn’t go over to comfort his girlfriend. He twisted from Dean’s grip and faced him, his mounting frustration written all over his face. “What the hell, Dean? That’s Jess, my girlfriend. Why the hell can’t I go over and check to see if she’s okay?” Why the hell was his brother so vague? “What the fuck aren’t you telling us?” he demanded because he had the right to know, both of them had the right to know.

Dean stared at Sam for a moment, looking like he was debating on what to tell him. Before either one of them could continue the conversation, there was a low giggle from behind them. Sam froze, recognizing the giggle as Jess’s. But it was darker and lower.

“You boys sure are adorable when you bicker like that,” Jess’s voice echoed in the hallway.

He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck begin to stand up. Sam forced himself to turn back around to face his girlfriend. Jess was standing up straight, watching them like a hawk. Her lips curled in a vicious smile, reminding Sam of a shark just finding its prey. “Look at you, Sammy,” she crooned. “Aren’t you a big boy.” She looked him up and down appreciatively. When Sam didn’t move, she sighed. “Why don’t you come over here and give me a kiss? We can go back to bed and forget about all this crap. What are we running from anyways, Sam?” She looked from one brother to the other, her eyes lingering a little too long on Dean. “Think your big brother’s got a loose screw.” 

Sam hesitated. Why the hell was Jess saying all these things? 

“Sam, don’t listen to her,” came his brother’s voice. Just barely a whisper. “That’s not Jess. You’ve got to believe me.”

“Yeah, Sammy, don’t listen to me,” Jess mocked, “I’ve only been your girlfriend for the last two years compared to this loser you call a brother who never bothered to call you or check in to see if you were even alive. Definitely take his word over mine.”

There was no way Jess would say that. She’d never badmouthed anyone ever. And the brief meeting between her and Dean earlier...it was like she had a split personality or something. “Christo,” Dean growled.

Jess flinched at the word and for a moment, her eyes were completely black. Sam stared. What the hell?

Dean wasted no time in taking Sam by the arm and racing through the hall, barking out, “Sam! Come on, move it, little brother! Go, go, go!”

Sam found himself stumbling along, adrenaline fueling his body, even as his mind was still trying to catch up with what was going on. _That’s not Jess_ , Dean had said. And it wasn’t. There was no way. Jess’s eyes didn’t blink black like that. She didn’t look at Sam with mocking love and throw hate at a man she barely knew. Dean reached the front door first and tugged at the door knob. He started cursing when it didn’t budge, which shouldn’t have been possible since it locked from the inside and it was currently unlocked. Sam barely had time to react before he saw his brother go flying back, like a yoyo springing back to its owner.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean cursed as his head collided with the wall on the other side of the room. 

“Tsk, tsk, Deano. Don’t you know it’s impolite to curse in front of a lady?” came Jess’s familiar voice full of false sweetness. Sam turned around just in time to watch his girlfriend saunter slowly over to his brother. He could see Dean struggling against the wall but there was nothing pinning him there. He made to move over to them but Jess must have heard because she paused and turned around to see him. She smiled coldly and raised a hand up, “Oh, Sammy, don’t think I’ve forgotten about you. Just wait your turn like a good boy, won’t you?” Before he could ask what she meant by that, he was suddenly being lifted in the air. 

Dean shouted, “Sammy!”

Then he was flung backwards, his back hitting the doorframe hard enough to knock the air out of his lungs. He gasped in surprise.

“Oh he’ll be fine. You Winchesters really are dramatic, aren’t you?” Jess was saying. Her voice sounded far away though. Sam’s head was throbbing from the impact of the door. He blinked a few times, trying to get it together. Dean and Jess needed him. He blinked a couple more times. He tried to lift his head and caught a glimpse of Jess’s back. She was crouching in front of his brother, reaching out to touch him. “So tell me, Deano, how’d you know what I was? How’d you know to say that word?”

“Oh you mean ‘ _Christo_ ’?” Dean spat, the smirk in his voice so obvious that Sam could vividly imagine it. Jess startled, cursing, as she took a stumbling step back. “Had enough yet, you _demonic_ bitch?”

Even in the face of the supernatural, Dean had time to joke. Wait. Sam almost didn’t register the second to last word in the sentence before Jess growled and lunged forward. He heard Dean shouting, “Close your eyes, Sammy!” Then there was just a blinding white light that seemed to engulf the whole room before Sam lost himself to darkness.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will probably be a switch to Dean's POV. Just a heads up.

Sam woke up a couple hours later to an unfamiliar ceiling. There was a stain that he didn’t recognize just above his head. He blinked a couple times, willing it to go away. Nope. Still there. The mattress dipped as an unfamiliar weight sank down beside him. Sam nearly banged his head against the wall as he tried to scramble away from the new person.

“Whoa, whoa, Sammy. It’s me. It’s Dean,” Dean said as he stood back up.

Sam paused and looked at him. His brother, dressed in a black tee shirt and boxers, hair wet like he just stepped out of a shower, stared back at him. For a moment, Sam couldn’t understand why his older brother was here. But then memories of Dean’s visit came flooding back. Oh crap. “Dean,” he said dumbly. 

“In the flesh,” Dean smirked.

Sam wanted to roll his eyes. An image of Jess flashed in his head. Sam gasped, clutching his head. It was throbbing with pain suddenly. “Sam?” his brother was calling to him. He could feel Dean gripping his shoulders. “Hey, hey, look at me. You okay, little bro?”

“Jess,” Sam said through clenched teeth. “Is she okay?” He forced himself to lift his head so that he could see Dean’s face.

Dean was nodding, “Yeah, she’s fine, man. She’s here too. On the other bed. She’s just sleeping, Sam. Promise.”

Sam turned to see that Dean was right. Jess was sleeping rather peacefully on the other bed. He sighed in relief before looking around. “Where is _here_ anyways?” It certainly wasn’t his apartment.

Dean hesitated for a second. “My motel room. I was just renting it for the night.”

“Oh. Right,” Sam said, vaguely remembering Dean said something about having a motel room close by. He looked out the window closest to him to see that it was completely dark out. He could hear the pitter patter of the rain outside. He shuddered just thinking about being out there this late at night. Even though this wasn’t his home, it would have to do until morning. He looked back up at his brother and said, “Uh, well, thanks for earlier.” The words slid off his tongue awkwardly and stiffly. It had been years since he had seen Dean and he still wasn’t sure what exactly happened when they had been back at the apartment, just that Dean had saved them both somehow. 

“It’s no problem, Sam,” Dean said, a genuine smile on his face that made him impossibly radiant, even in the poorly lit room. “It’s what family does, right? We take care of each other.” It was said so obviously, so matter-of-a-factly, like Dean was talking about the weather.

“Yeah, right,” Sam said, feeling like an awkward teenager all over again. 

Dean was quiet for a moment, before he sat back on the edge of the bed with a sigh. He looked as tired as Sam felt. “Look, we can talk more in the morning. Okay, little brother?”

Sam wanted to protest. He had questions still. A lot of them. But it was as if Dean could read his mind because he turned around to face him. “This isn’t exactly up for debate, Sammy,” Dean said. “I mean it. We’re both tired. You only slept for a few hours and,” he glanced over to the sleeping form of Jess, Sam following his gaze, “Jess also needs her rest. And honestly I don’t really want to have this conversation more than once.”

Sam pondered that, surprised that Dean was going to go for the truth. Jess was a civilian and as far as he remembered from hunting with their dad, they were rarely ever honest with the folks they saved. He wasn’t sure how he felt about Jess learning the truth about the supernatural, though, from what he remembered, there probably wasn’t any way to preserve Jess’s innocence after what happened to her. It both upset him and relieved him.

On the one hand, he didn’t have to lie to her anymore.

On the other, Jess was never going to be the same again. Neither was Sam but Sam was able to handle it when he was a kid. Sure he would’ve liked it if he had been oblivious to the dangers lurking in the shadows, if his dad hadn’t become so obsessed with hunting the supernatural that he’d leave his kids in motel rooms for days on end by themselves. He hated the way he grew up, missed the days when mom had been alive and he got to watch cartoons and eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with the crusts cut off. 

He missed being normal...but he got out. 

He made his own choices and got out and went to college, and now it was all coming back and it had taken hold of Jess. The one person he swore the supernatural wouldn’t taint. That the Winchester curse wouldn’t touch.

He told himself the first day they met, he told himself that he wouldn’t fuck it up, wouldn’t fuck _her_ up. And now his brother was going to tell her. He was going to tell her about everything. About the supernatural and what was out there. About them and what they did. What Sam did. His secret was going to be out in the open and he could just imagine the look of disgust on Jess’s face. The pain and betrayal of Sam lying to her.

What was she going to say? What was she going to do? What the hell did this mean for their relationship?

He couldn’t let Dean do this. It’d fuck her up. Fuck what he and Jess had. “Look, Dean, maybe there’s another way,” Sam said suddenly, sitting back up.

Dean looked at him, an eyebrow raised. “What are you talking about?”

“Maybe we can tell Jess later,” he said, desperate for Dean to realize what he meant without actually having to admit it. He was scared. He was so fucking scared.

Dean got a funny look on his face for a moment. Then it was smoothed over by an impassive mask. “Look, Sammy, why don’t you go to bed? Like I said, we’re all tired. We can talk more about this in the morning,” his brother said, pushing Sam gently back so that he was laying on the pillows.

Sam wanted to protest but exhaustion was finally catching up to him. “Dean, please,” he said, blinking up tiredly at his brother.

Dean sat back as he studied Sam. “Don’t worry, Sam. I was just going to give her the shortened version of the talk. If you want to talk about how we got involved in the _life_ , you can. I won’t say anything about that though.” He paused to gauge Sam for his response. Sam didn’t say anything though, just waited with bated breath for Dean to continue. His brother stood up. “I’m gonna get some shut eye too. Got a sleeping bag packed so you two kiddos could take the beds.”

He turned around to leave. “Wait,” Sam said loud enough for Dean to pause. He wasn’t sure what to say though. He didn’t want Dean to leave.

“You’re going to be okay, Sam,” Dean said, turning back to look at him. His green eyes pierced the darkness. “Both of you are going to be okay. Whatever she does with the truth isn’t on you. It’s her choice.” Sam knew that deep down. He knew that Jess had the right to know what happened to her. What _really_ happened. Whatever she did after she was given the information was her choice. His heart ached at the possibility of her leaving. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think she’s going to dump your sorry ass,” Dean said, his eyes twinkling with affection.

Dean left to grab the sleeping bag shortly after.

Sam was left awake, staring up at the ceiling. He was tired and yet he wasn’t sure he could sleep with so much on his mind. His brother’s light snoring soon filled the room and Sam knew he wasn’t going to get answers until morning.

He sighed and closed his eyes, trying to get some sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo I know a lot of you have been waiting an awful long time for this. Dean's POV and Michael's appearance. Next chapter will be a continuation and then we're going back to Sammy's POV I think. Some questions get answered in these two chapters and I'm sure more will be raised!

“Dean.”

Dean blinked awake, staring up at a cloudless, blue sky. For a moment, he just lay where he was, not understanding how he could be staring up at the sky so clearly. The sounds of people talking and children laughing rang in his ear. He sat up, realizing that he had been laying on a bench.

“Son of a bitch,” he murmured to himself as he looked around. There were people walking around and children playing on the playground. He watched as one of the kids slid down a bright red slide, giggling the whole way. He couldn’t help but smile as the kid started to run back to the small line forming for the slide. 

The kid reminded Dean vaguely of Sam when he was younger. They had the same mop of brown hair and eyes that glowed with enthusiasm. He couldn’t help but watch as the kids took turns sliding down. Another boy approached him just as he was getting ready to climb up the ladder. Instinctively Dean tensed up, getting ready to intervene in case the kid tried anything. The boy was older, not by much, and taller, and Dean was sure he could easily push him out of the way if he wanted to. But he caught a glimpse of the smile on the other boy’s face, one full of affection and awfully familiar.

The boy ruffled the smaller boy’s hair playfully and said, “Hey, Sammy.”

Dean froze when he heard his own voice. Younger and higher pitched, perhaps, but there was no mistaking it.

“Lawrence, Kansas. May 7, 1988. Sam just turned five. You were nine. Your mom took you two to the park while your dad was working at the garage that day. You two had ice cream afterwards.”

Dean turned to see a younger man with dark hair sitting beside him. He looked vaguely like a younger version of John Winchester. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. He knew this wasn’t really his dad. “Michael,” he acknowledged. “We’re inside my head, aren’t we?”

“Yes,” Michael said before lapsing into silence. There was a loud thud of bodies falling to the ground and the two turned their attention back to the memory. Dean found himself watching as his younger self started wrestling with another boy as Sammy looked on unsurely. He remembered that day. The boy had come up to them just as he was messing with Sam and decided that while the two had been distracted, he’d push past them and make it up the slide without having to wait in line. 

Dean noticed because the kid shoved his brother down right in front of him and there was no way he was going to get away with hurting little Sammy without Dean getting a word in. He’d tackled the boy without a thought, surprising him as he landed on the boy’s stomach. The two started to roll on the grass, trying to pin the other. It went on for a few minutes before some of the other kids started to take notice and form a small circle around them, and then a few of the adults. Mary had been one of them. She had run over after hearing the commotion and pushed her way through, shouting at a few people, “Move! That’s my son!”

There had been a couple complaints on how Dean was violent and he should know better than to tackle another kid. The boy’s mom wasn’t pleased but once Dean explained what happened and that the kid pushed Sam first, Mary got into the woman’s face about her son’s disgusting behavior. They left afterwards and went to get ice cream to make up for what happened at the park.

Then dad came home for dinner and Dean got to explain all the things that happened. He remembered John’s eyes widening at the story but in the end they were all grinning and dad leaned over to give Dean a big hug and told him how much of a hero he was. Then they all had the meatloaf surprise mom made and then the apple pie for dessert and by the end of the night, Dean was feeling pretty happy with how the day turned.

“It’s a good memory, I’ll give you that,” Dean said finally. He watched as the scene continued to slowly play itself out. 

“One of your favorites, if I’m not mistaken,” Michael said.

“Yeah, guess so,” Dean nodded. He turned to look at the angel. Michael was still focused on the memory playing itself out. “As much as I love reliving my past greatest hits, I take it this ain’t exactly a social visit.” Michael said nothing. Instead he looked down at his hands. It was such a human thing to do that the gesture looked strange on an angel. Dean cleared his throat. “So, what’s going on, Mike?” The nickname slipped out before he could help himself. He’d taken to calling the angel by the shortened version of his name as a joke the first time he met him years ago, when he’d been on the hunt for a djinn with his dad. 

Michael didn’t seem to notice the slip, or he just didn’t care. He sighed, another human like behavior that felt wrong coming from a powerful angel. “You’re correct. As much as I would love to just come here to talk with you, this is not, as you put it, a social visit.” 

There was a joke on the tip of Dean’s tongue forming about the formal way the angel always spoke, but it quickly died when the angel looked back up at him. There was no hint of affection or playfulness that Dean sometimes saw in the angel when he came to visit Dean through his dreams. His gaze was dark and serious and Dean knew when to keep quiet. He nodded, appreciative of Dean’s seriousness to the situation.

“As you know, my home is up in Heaven. There are other angels, my brothers and sisters, some not as powerful as I and some who are. We cannot take form here on earth but certain, _special_ , humans can agree to become vessels if the need arises. You are one of those vessels. You remember that you said ‘yes’ to me when you were four years old to save your mother’s life.” 

Yes he did remember that story. Michael had told him that he’d become the angel’s vessel when he was really young. It was how they became connected and how Michael could visit his dreams when he wanted to. Michael also told him it worked the other way too. If Dean prayed to Michael, just to him, the angel could hear him and answer the prayer. If Dean was ever in trouble, the angel said he’d be there.

“ _I promise, Dean. To the best of my ability, I will answer your prayer_ ,” Michael had said.


End file.
